


Bust Your Kneecaps

by Lemon_Lime_0



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Blackmail, Eventual Romance, Gold has a bad time™, Gore, I'm overtagging warnings JUST to be safe, Implied Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Trauma, Violence, basically Team Rocket never broke up & Silver grew up in it, both are off screen and non-explicit, it's not done by Gold or Silver this ain't that kinda fic, they're in their 20s btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Lime_0/pseuds/Lemon_Lime_0
Summary: The weeks starts with Gold wanting to break up with his girlfriend. It ends with him lying in a pool of his own blood, now at the mercy of a stony-eyed redhead whose life took a few wrong turns since they were kids.Lucky for Gold he's a charity case. And lucky for Gold, he's more valuable alive than dead.For now.





	Bust Your Kneecaps

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I got the idea for this after listening to Bust Your Kneecaps by Poomplamoose (which is a rlly good song y'all should go support them.) Why is this Pokemon? Why is it so dark for Pokemon? Idk I'm edgy and I can.
> 
> I only VAGUELY have an idea of what I want to do with this. I got a bit excited tho and made this draft and to keep from losing all my tags and junk I wrote the first chapter to just, have out there for a bit.
> 
> 6/6 Update: Hi!! I still plan on continuing this, don't worry! But I was wrong to think I could juggle both this and my other fic. So for the time being, I'm going to put my efforts towards that, and once it's done I'll be coming back to this I promise <3 Please be patient
> 
> If you want more in the meantime feel free to read said other fic Crash Landing, or if u wanna intereact with me my Twitter is lemon_lime0 and my tumblr is lemon-lime-writes
> 
> ANYWAYS. Here it is. Mind the tags, it gets right into it.

The week starts the same as many others have.

 

Gold rolls himself out of his shared bed at noon, takes a quick (often freezing) shower, grabs something to eat along his way for lunch, and heads out to start his work week. His girlfriend stays in bed the entire time, exhausted from her night shift accepting delivery forms, and they’ll see each other for only a few hours in between when Gold gets home and she goes to work.

 

And sure, they have the weekends, but if he's being honest, those two days really aren’t cutting it for him anymore. He would _never_ consider himself clingy, but if he’s going to stay in a serious relationship, a few hours a day just isn’t enough.

 

It’s been on his mind for a while. They're almost as routine as his days are. It’s not simply the lack of time together either.

 

She’s a lot of great things, she really is. Beautiful and witty and she’s got a voice that’s soft and sweet and rings like a melody in his ears. She _works_ , which isn't a thing a good few of Gold's exes are familiar with.

 

But it’s been five months. Gold doesn’t tend to stay in relationships long to begin with (he’s not a player, he just gets bored). There’s been some red flags anyway. She moved into Gold’s apartment in Goldenrod City a mere three weeks into their relationship and hasn’t left. She almost never leaves his side, not unless he’s at work, and even then she texts him way too often (and always expects a reply).

 

The topic of getting married keeps getting brought up. Gold isn’t afraid of commitment by any means but he’s 23 years old. That is _way_ too young to settle down with a girl he’s been with for not half a year.

 

So, yeah, he’s gonna cut the cord on this one.

 

God, she has all her shit at his place too. Even as he’s sitting on the bullet train heading from Goldenrod to Olivine, growing miles and miles further from her, he can just imagine what her reaction is going to be.

 

A total meltdown. At least that's what he's picturing. Why do these girls always have to freak out like this?

 

He sips his coffee that he bought at a café in the station and rests his head back against the seat. Usually he hates his job, but for once he’s looking forward to it.

 

It’s time away from her after all.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Gold chickens out that day. Because of course he did. When he came home to her making dinner and what’s he supposed to do though, dump her right then and there?

 

It’s good dinner too. Despite the fact she talks on and on and on as they eat, complaining about coworkers and such from her shift the previous night. Gold barely pays attention. He does that often nowadays. Yet another sign that things probably aren’t gonna work out long-term.

 

She picks up on it, observant as ever, and nags him until he pretends as if he’s listening, nodding along and making half-assed commentary in an effort to be decent.

 

She asks about work and he makes up some story to keep her interest. Work is boring. It always is but he can never get away with saying that too her. Yeah, sorry his co-workers aren’t backstabbing bitches who start drama for no good reason. Sorry nothing goes wrong there and sorry he does his job right and doesn’t get chewed out by his boss all the time.

 

Sorry some people _enjoy_ being normal and doing what they’re supposed to.

 

...

 

 _Gold hates being normal and doing what he’s supposed to_.

 

Even their sex life is fucking boring. There used to be a spark, like there was in many other things, and now she wants him to hold her and kiss her and just, god. Gold feels shallow treating it as if it’s a chore but it is what it is. He’s _young_. Too young for this bland old couple routine.

 

She goes off to shower after and he just stays and bed. Doesn’t get up until his girlfriend leaves for work with a parting kiss and whisperings of soft words and sweet goodbyes.

 

It’s too much affection in his eyes. He feels kinda douchey for hating on everything she does for him. It's trite but it's not her, it's him.

 

She’s a wonderful girl, she really is. It’s just...

 

...

 

Gold doesn’t feel like thinking about it. He grabs a beer from the fridge and kicks back on the couch and catches up on the shows he likes. Or, the ones she or one of his co-workers got him into. He’s never been much of an indoorsy-TV all the time person. Never has been.

 

He loved going outside as a kid.

 

Loved it.

 

His eyes slowly go over to where he keeps his things from the old times in a display case. His badges he earned and his Championship certificate and all the ribbons and awards he won from battling competitions. His Pokemon’s balls sit nearby, safe and tucked away. Sure he takes them for walks every weekend and to work and sometimes someone will ask for a battle but...

 

Well, it’s not the same. It’s not even close to being the same.

 

Back before he moved out, he lived in a hick country town with his mom and though there weren’t a lot of shops there or kids his age, there was the ocean and woods and places to hike and plenty of space for his Pokemon to run around.

 

He’d been so desperate to get out, see the city, live the dream of being some famous celebrity trainer. But now, as he sits in his tiny apartment on the 6th floor, opening a second beer with the TV droning out scene after scene that Gold’s not listening too, he feels if maybe he made the wrong choice.

 

It’s depressing. And it’s been on his mind as much lately as breaking up with his girlfriend has. The two go hand in hand, in a way. Hopes and dreams of imagining success and a fulfilling relationship at age 18 turn out to be a boring, mindless 8-hour shift unloading ships at the Olivine docks and dating girl after girl and boy after boy and nothing ever feeling quite right.

 

The thoughts of if he had just stayed a trainer instead of trying to be a proper adult weigh his heart down.

 

God.

 

He’s making himself miserable for no reason. With a sigh, he turns on the next episode of the show he barely remembers what’s going on in and takes another sip of beer.

 

The taste is bitter and vaguely piss-like. When he was a teenager, he hated the way it tasted and would always shoot for something that burned going down and pumped him up enough to do daring and reckless acts. The change to a dull buzz of beer at the end of the day feels symbolic, almost.

 

Absentmindedly, he longs for change, but knows it often comes with a price. Though if his life is going to stay this way forever if he doesn't interfere, well, maybe it's a price he's willing to pay.

 

* * *

 

The next day is mostly a repeat of the same. Once again, Gold hypes himself up at work to finally get it over with, then bails the moment he gets home and sees her waiting for him. Her arms wrap around his neck in an embrace that feels so warm yet so suffocating at the same time.

 

It’s killing him. It really is. Why can’t things work out for him, for once?

 

She can tell something’s up, keeps asking him questions in hopes of prying it out. He doesn’t give in; claims he has a headache and work was a drag so he’s just out of it. She teasingly reminds him of the best remedy for headaches. He doesn’t object.

 

It feels good and also it doesn’t. Gold thinks guilt is tainting it.

 

But why should he feel guilty? He can’t help his feelings that use to be there aren’t anymore. It’s the cycle of life. And yet, a voice inside his head tells him that the guilt comes from the fact he keeps dragging her on. He wants to ignore it but it’s right. If only he was a bit more of a douche or a lot more of a pushover.

 

He purposely picks a fight with her before she goes to work, over something stupid and pointless. But judging by the way she gets riled up and yells at him maybe there was actually something there.

 

It doesn’t matter. The seed is planted.

 

She slams the front door closed as she storms out to go to work and he gets himself a beer. He hopes he doesn’t get a noise complaint from one of the neighbors. Getting kicked out is the last thing he needs right now.

 

...

 

The view of the cityscape used to be so beautiful and awe-inspiring to Gold as a clueless kid wandering around for the first time. He'd never seen skyscrapers like this before and been in a city that seemingly always stayed awake with thing after thing to explore and do. It was wonderful.

 

But now, it just feels like a hollow cage with the buildings as bars.

 

And the lights don’t shine as bright as they used to.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in a while, Gold isn’t waking himself up at noon. He rises with the sun with much reluctance and puts himself together prior to when his girlfriend gets home from work at seven. She hasn’t messaged him once throughout the night. Means she’s pissed. Good, that’s what he was going for.

 

The beers in the fridge call to him. It’s tempting, but he’s gotten drunk before breaking up with someone in the past. Never ends how he wants it to.

 

(How many people has he broken up with? Good lord. That's a problem in itself.)

 

Instead, he makes himself a cup of coffee to get his brain firing. A smarter idea, anyway.

 

If he had an energy drink on him he'd mix it in. But that requires leaving and if she gets back before he does that would probably be bad.

 

His girlfriend walks in at seven-fifteen on the dot and kicks her shoes off by the door. She takes a few steps in then she jumps, a high-pitched noise slipping for her lips as she notices Gold in the kitchen right next to her. He’s never up this early.

 

A look of confusion crosses her pretty little face. She bites her lip for a moment, then walks right past him to pour herself a cup of coffee. “You’re up for once.” Is all she says. He can hear the edge in her tone and knows she’s still not over what they fought about.

 

“So I am.” Is all he gives back, taking a sip of coffee. She shoots him a narrowed glare.

 

“What’s with that tone?” She asks, setting her half-filled mug on the counter so she can cross her arms. He kept his voice flat, but her temper is rising quick. She’s such a pretty girl, but such a bad with such anger issues.

 

Gold mirrors her, setting his half-empty cup and crossing his arms. “We need to talk.” He tells her firmly.

 

And with that, it starts.

 

Her expression drops into a look of horror. He watches thought after thought race through her as she tries to figure out where this is going. The five stages of grief rapidly flash in her eyes and it looks like she's settling on anger. Lovely.

 

After a moment, she nods, simply says, “Okay.”

 

He’s thought hard about what he should say. Some of his exes he went with long, drawn-out speeches that boiled down to ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, because that was usually the truth. Others he went from the upfront, ‘this isn’t working anymore’ because they were too stupid or naive to understand otherwise.

 

“These past months have been great, they really have.” Gold starts. Her eyes widen as she finally pinpoints where this is going. He keeps talking. “But I don’t see us staying together forever. It’s not the same as it was. And you deserve to find someone who can be with you for good, but that’s not me.”

 

It comes off a bit harsher than what he wanted, but maybe that’s for the best. If he was too soft she might try to talk him out of it.

 

He has no idea how she’s going to react until he says it, though. At first, her eyes well up with tears and her lip begins to quiver. Many girls he’s dumped start crying when he starts this conversation. Some guys too. He supposes she’s not an exception. He braces himself for the waterworks-

 

**_CRASH_ **

 

Gold jolts back with a cry as her mug collides with the tile floor and shatters across it, hot coffee coming dangerously close to his bare feet. He sucks in a sharp breath, one hand holding the counter. Shocked eyes dare to look at her.

 

She’s seething with rage, pale face turning a growing shade of red. Her hand clutches the counter’s edge tight, much like him, her breath coming out short and heavy through her mouth.

 

He’s got over half a foot of height on her and is fairly well built from lifting at his work, but she looks as though she could absolutely take him fueled on anger alone. This isn't going to end well. He swallows; his mouth feels dry suddenly.

 

She slams her fist on the counter and he jumps again. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” She yells, her sweet voice turning uncharacteristically booming. It lacks the screech most girls have when they yell at him. Hers is commanding and his knees feel weak at it.

 

Nobody he’s dumped has reacted with such anger before. Nobody _period_ he’s fought with has, unless he’s actually physically fought them. Even then, they sure weren’t as scary as her.

 

He tries to keep his composure. “Lark-“ He tries, hoping her name will bring her back to reality.

 

It doesn’t. She starts cussing him out, throwing creatively placed insults as she walks towards him. He keeps backing up, wincing as she steps in shards of the mug and the spilled coffee. She doesn’t flinch.

 

“Lark-” He tries again. “Lark, Lark you’re bleeding. Stop-”

 

“Do you have ANY idea who you’re MESSING WITH?!” She hisses out, ignoring her pleas. Blood mixes in with the coffee and Gold swallows hard. It's disgusting.

 

She reaches for one of the knives stashed away and his stomach plummets. Not thinking it through, he lunges over and grabs her by the wrists to pull her away. She starts screaming bloody murder, trying to overpower him. Her hands reach to scratch his face with perfectly manicured nails. There’s more strength in her than he’d expected. She comes close to gouging out his eyes.

 

He fucked up bad. He still doesn’t let go of her wrists. “Lark, please, please _shut up-“_

 

“I’LL KILL YOU!!” She wails, kicking a bloody foot at him. It doesn’t knock him off balance. “You’ll regret this for the REST of your miserable life!! LET ME GO!”

 

Gold winces as he’s kicked again. Her teeth are clenched and if he doesn't think quick he is definitely getting bit. It’s too fucking early in this morning for this shit. He can hear neighbors waking up and creaking the floor above them. He needs to take charge of the situation now.

 

His grip on her wrists tighten and he pushes her against the wall. Not hard, just enough to pin her in one place so she can’t hurt him or herself anymore. She throws her head back and forth as she screams out profanities and threats. Gold holds both wrists in one hand and covers her mouth with his other.

 

Her eyes widen and she shuts up. He's thankful he's not getting bit. He leans over her, feeling the fierce scowl crossing his face. Their difference in size becomes apparent and guilt shoots through him.

 

He doesn’t let up. That would be stupid. He keeps his voice low and serious as he speaks. “Lark, you need to calm down. You need to take care of your feet, get your shit together, and get the fuck out.” She makes a quiet, pitiful noise and starts to squirm. His grip on her loosens a bit, but he keeps his voice steady. “I wanted to handle this like rational adults, but you can’t do that.

 

“Get your things and get out before I call the police.” He finishes and lets go of her, taking a few steps back, just in case. She gasps and slumps against the wall to catch her balance. Small, manicured hands grip her chest. Her feet are turning the off-white tile red underneath her.

 

Her gasps turn to hyperventilating, and before Gold can do anything that turns to high pitched laughter. She sounds insane. She might be.

 

“You have-, NO IDEA, what you’ve just done. You-“ She gasps, her cackling growing sharper and wheezier. It sounds as if it’s sucking the air out of her lungs. “You’re fucking dead! You just killed yourself! I will-, I will make sure of it- you watch me!!”

 

She clutches her chest tighter and he grits his teeth, worried she might be having some kind of heart issue. Or she's just dramatic. Her laughing dies down, replaced with cool, icy detachment. Gold is stunned by the way shadows seem to cast on her face as her demeanor does a complete 180.

 

Her hands push herself against the wall to help her stand up fully again and she begins walking towards him. He tries to put space between them, all the way until he’s been cornered against the counters.

 

Deep crimson footprints are left behind her and he seriously worries for her sanity. She gets his attention by grabbing him by his shirt and jerking him down so they’re closer to be eye level.

 

Her eyes narrow, a calculating look to them. A crooked smile slowly grows on her face. He swallows. His mouth is still dry. “Oh Goldie, sweet, sweet, stupid little Goldie. You have messed with the _wrong_ girl.” She laughs, voice full of ice. “I am going to make you regret ever being born. I am going to make sure your life becomes a living hell.”

 

She lets go of his shirt and steps away from him. He doesn’t dare move. She smiles at him, as sweetly as ever. “Just you wait until my brother about this. Just you _wait_. If you think you fucked up now, you wait until they hear about what you did.”

 

“Lark...” He manages to get out. She turns his back to him and heads to the door, grabbing her shoes, putting them on over he bloodied feet. And then she leaves.

 

He exhales a trembling breath he held in for the longest time. God, of all ways for that to end, he never expected it to be so _bad_. He leans back against the counter and runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down.

 

It’s over. It’s over but at what cost? Gold looks around his apartment.

 

He has to clean up the mess now. That’s okay. She’ll have to come back to get her things. That can also be okay, even if she's clearly psychotic. His neighbors will probably be pissed but that’s something he can deal with too.

 

His Pokemon are still in their balls. He could’ve had his entire apartment trashed, but as long as he has them and they’re okay, he’ll be fine.

 

She mentioned her brother, and that’s also something manageable. He’s met her brother before, and sure, he’s a bit of a low-life, but he can time him a fight just fine. Everything is just fine. Her threats mean nothing to him. Gold knows she's full of shit.

 

It takes nearly an hour of standing against the counter for him to finally compose himself. When he does, he cleans up the kitchen, makes sure not to step on anything to make his own feet bleed. He showers, and gets ready for the day. He’s a few hours ahead of schedule, so in the meantime, he tries to set aside all of her things to get them ready to go. Then, like any other day, he heads to work.

 

Everything is fine.

 

* * *

 

She will not answer any of the texts he sends her. Not the ones that ask her if she’s alright, nor the ones that tell her to come get her things, or the ones where he tries to apologize for how quickly things escalated. It’s not a good sign.

 

His phone isn't fancy enough to have read and sent receipts. He wishes it was.

 

Regardless, Gold continues to go to work. He tells his friends at the docks that him and his girlfriend broke up and he’s met with an onslaught of ‘bro’therly comfort. It's sorta nice to be told he's in the right for dumping her, even if he doesn't know if he is anymore.

 

He does not tell them how much of a crazy bitch she was, though.

 

He finishes off the workweek and cashes his paycheck when he’s back in Goldenrod and uses some of it to buy some liquor for the weekend. His landlord’s quite displeased with him, but he can smooth that over. She’ll understand, her ex-husband would break shit too. He knows, it happened out in the parking lot once. They didn't even live here. Some people are like that.

 

Because he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his afternoon with his now ex-girlfriend, he decides to take his Pokemon out to the National Park for a walk. Besides his mom, they’re his favorite living things on the planet.

 

They seem happy to get out of their balls to roam around a bit freer than normal. Gold daydreams about quitting his job and leaving the country and traveling to a new one, where he can journey all over again and explore the wilderness and relive his youth. It’s an inviting thought. Like, he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions.

 

It’s awfully tempting, but he should probably hold off on making any future plans until this whole mess with his ex blows over, though.

 

For the first time in a while, despite being among the concrete cage that is this city, he feels a little freer than he was before. Despite how this growing anticipation is acting similar to chains around him.

 

* * *

 

Saturday night he leaves his apartment building just prior to midnight to run down the block and grab himself something more to drink. He’s out of beer and he downed the bottle of whiskey he bought the previous night. Gold doesn’t have a problem. Anyone in his situation would do the same.

 

He pays the inconspicuous greasy older man at the counter of a near-empty shop for his purchase and decides on buying a pack of cigarettes too. He’s not a heavy smoker, but he does have one every now and then. For stress. No big deal.

 

As he walks the empty, slightly questionably unkempt streets of the cheaper side of the city, he lights a cigarette. Puffs out a breath and watches the smoke fill the air.

 

It's late and it's just him out wandering the streets at this hour. It's tranquil in a way.

 

In an instant, there’s a rag on his face and two sets of arms grabbing him, holding him back. His mind blanks before he can settle into fight or flight mode. He kicks his legs and tries to scream, his bag dropping, glass shattering, alcohol spilling out beneath him.

 

Somebody snatches his cigarette from him as it drops and he only fights harder. The rag on his face in wet and he tries not to inhale, knowing damn well what it is. He stops screaming and frees his elbow to jerk it back into what he's hoping is a face.

 

A punch to his stomach. He gasps, breath coming out choked and empty, his knees buckling as he falls to him. If his vision wasn’t dirtied with black spots he could’ve seen who the offender was.

 

More footsteps. The rag is still being pressed into his face. His vision grows even more blurry and his limbs start to slack. He hears a “...get-.......-key-.....” “....she.-....-one-................-tie....him-...” from above him. Despite his best efforts to fight it off, unconsciousness creeps up on him and he succumbs to it without too much of a second thought.

 

* * *

 

When Gold finally comes too, his head is throbbing painfully and his body is sluggish but everything feels numb at the same time. He can’t see shit. Blindfold, maybe? Something over his mouth as well. He licks his tongue over his lips and finds it’s duct tape. As nasty as it is, he tries to use his spit to weaken the tape’s grip on his face. There's not a lot. He's probably dehydrated.

 

He needs to think things over, take in what he can so he can get out of this situation. He’s on the floor somewhere, and judging by how unresponsive and restricted his arms and legs feel, he’s probably been tied up as well. The floor vibrates under him and every now and then, it hits a bump and he gets sent into the air just a little. In a car, or, a van more likely.

 

This feels like some shitty action movie. Gold’s not a fan. He barely remembers how many people took him down but he’s figuring there had to be at least three.

 

Not great. But they had the element of surprise. If he gets out of this he could _maybe_ take them, even if he walked away beat and bloody.

 

He does not freak out. Gold can keep his calm pretty good. He just has to think things through.

 

If he does beat them in a fight, or get away, he needs to call someone. He goes with his options. The police are an obvious choice. But besides them, he knows he shouldn’t call his mom. He could call Lance, the current Champion of the Indigo League, though...

 

It might be smarter, actually. Him and Gold are chummy enough and Gold’s done plenty of favors for the League. Lance also has an array of flying, fearsome dragon Pokemon that could probably kick ass a lot better than the cops could.

 

His brain must still be drugged up if it's dreaming up a childhood hero fantasy like this. Why the hell wouldn't he call the cops?

 

The vehicle comes to a halt, and Gold readies himself. There's no use in trying to play a helpless act in front of these guys. Maybe if he was a girl, but no, he needs to find their weaknesses and use them to his advantage.

 

The tape on his mouth feels ready to fall off. Good.

 

A door opens and he hears several pairs of footsteps getting out. That’s...not good. There’s definitely more than three people as Gold initially thought and panic rises in his stomach. He tries to push it down.

 

Okay, more people than he accounted for. That’s okay, he can take them too, no big deal. He'll just have to be smarter about it. Two sets of hands grab him by each arm and roughly pull him out of the van. He hits the ground with a choked grunt, the air getting knocked from his lungs. It must've rained recently because it feels damp and the air smells funny. That or he's gotten a concussion somehow.  Great.

 

Somebody rips the blindfold off his eyes and he blinks rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to take in his surroundings. They pull off the tape too, and make a disgusted noise when at its slight wetness. It didn’t hurt coming off, at least.

 

Gold sees six-, no, seven people standing around him. It’s night still and with them dressed in all black, it’s hard to make them out. His eyes slowly start to focus as he tries to take in their faces. He notices that he was right before, there’s a van in his peripheral vision. Cowards. Couldn’t take him one on one so they all ganged up on him.

 

There’s a small, red ‘R’ in the corner of each of their jackets. It feels familiar somehow, and yet...his head’s too foggy to place it. It throbs dully.

 

He recognizes a face. Fuck.

 

Lark’s brother seems to be the ringleader among them, standing front and center. The van is still running and Gold sees a figure on the driver’s side. Great. That’s yet another guy he has to take down. The odds aren't stacking in his favor...

 

He turns his attention back to the brother, narrowing his eyes at him in a glare. Her brother smiles at him coyly.

 

“Gold.” He says politely, as if they’re at a formal dinner and not on a dirt road in fucking nowhere.

 

“Fuckface.” Gold responds, his voice hoarse. He realizes now how much his throat hurts, how dry and scratchy it feels. A couple of the guys around his snicker.

 

Her brother doesn’t. The smile drops. “You know, I really liked you. Really, really thought you’d be the one for my sister. You made her so happy, you know that?” He starts to ramble on, pacing around Gold like a predator would their prey.

 

Gold feels no guilt, nor is he intimidated by this pathetic bunch. “Isn’t this a bit much. Surely people have broken up with her before.”

 

“That they have.” Her brother folds his arms behind his back. “And don’t feel too jealous, they’ve all wound up in this same spot as you.”

 

“Oh cool, so you’re all crazy.” Gold rolls his eyes. What is fear, he doesn’t know fear. “Real swell of you to gather up a bunch of your buddies to kick my ass instead of facing me one on one like a man.”

 

Her brother doesn’t look phased by his taunting. He’s amused, even. “Isn’t that funny how that works out? I don’t need to play by your rules. I have my own. And look who's the one winning right now.” He laughs.

 

When he walks closer, Gold musters up what's left of him and spits at him. Her brother grimaces and steps away, even if it only managed to hit his shoe.

 

Gold feels a bit proud of himself for this small victory. “Are you done, dude? You’re all fucking lunatics.”

 

“Ah ah, you shouldn’t insult our boss’ business like this.” Her brother warns in a condescending voice. The men around him start to get closer. Except for one, who walks towards the van. Gold strains himself to try and see what the hell they’re doing.

 

His face is grabbed tight and turned to face Lark’s brother, Gold grimaces at the pain and keeps any noises of his weakness to himself.

 

Her brother tuts, turning Gold’s face from side to side. “Such a handsome man. You would have made her so happy, if only you hadn’t been so selfish.

 

“Suck my dick.” Gold says despite how difficult it is to talk with his cheeks squeezed. Her brother lets his face go. He rubs on cheek against his shoulder to help relieve some of the pain. “Care to untie my arms now?”

 

“Nope.” Her brother laughs and Gold watches the member that went to the van return with...ah, shit.

 

He’s passing out crowbars and bats and a thing of pipe to the other men. They hold them with familiarity, like they definitely know what they're doing, what they're going to do. Gold swallows hard. It burns going down his dry throat.

 

“Oh come on man, is that fucking necessary? Really?” He complains, coming off way more pitiful and afraid sounding than he wants to. He is afraid. He doesn't want it to show but he is. Things have gone from bad to worse and he still can’t move to defend himself.

 

Her brother takes a crowbar, sighing. “Are you going to bitch this entire time?”

 

What the fuck kind of question is that? Gold goes to ask that when-

 

Lark’s brother swings it down and it collides hard onto Gold's left knee. Gold tries to scream but nothing more than a hoarse, wheezing noise comes out. His vision is darted with black spots and white stars. Before his body can process the pain, there’s a bat coming down on his ribs, and another hitting his shin.

 

Gold chokes on blood as it comes out and screams for real this time. It comes out gurgling and akin to a wounded animal but-, fuck. The pain hits him just as hard as their weapons do and tears well up in his eyes, making everything blurry.

 

He can’t hear himself scream but he can feel it in his throat. He can’t see anything but white and he arches his back, throwing his head around as he wails and yells like he never has before. Yells until he can't even hear himself anymore and keeps doing it.

 

The blows keep coming. Mostly to his knees, his ribs, his legs. One hits his cheek and knocks his face to the side. He spits out blood and something else, something harder. Somebody’s foot meets his face and breathing just got a hell of a lot harder too.

 

The pain starts to become background noise to the static and ringing in his ears. At some point it's not as though he can feel anything more, it has to cap at some point, has to level into a mindless wave of hurt. It doesn't.

 

The only thought that keeps crossing his mind again and again is that this is it, this is where he dies. In a pool of his own blood (and probably piss, knowing his luck), surrounded by a bunch of thugs beating his ass for no other reason than he broke up with a girl.

 

Fuck.

 

Nobody’s gonna find him. He doesn't know where he is and everything burns and this is where he'll be left to die. His mom isn’t going to know he’s out here. And if she does it’ll break her heart, knowing this is how it ended for him. Oh god.

 

The van door on the driver’s side opens and somebody comes over. Gold thinks they're yelling but he can’t register anything other than pain and ringing and burning and-, fuck, he can barely see as it is. It takes him a few seconds for him to register that nothing is hitting him anymore. As a matter of fact, everyone seems to have backed off.

 

He strains himself to see who came from the van. It’s damn near impossible. His head won’t turn and only one eye seems to be working and the other one is watching stars dance around its line of vision. It's just more disorienting.

 

Black boots come towards him and stop mere inches in front of his face. He braces for another kick to knock him out cold.

 

Instead, the person kneels down and Gold still can’t focus on the details of their face. They’re in black, just as the others. He sees a curtain of long, red hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the darkness of the night. They’re saying something but Gold can’t hear any of it.

 

He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of exhaustion. Deep down inside him, he knows if he falls asleep, there will be no waking up. He’s going to die if he gives in.

 

But he’s already going to, isn’t he? Even though he can’t survey all the damage he can see the blood on the ground around his head and has felt each hit to his body and keeps feeling it and knows that’s more than enough to kill him. Why bother trying to stay awake through the hell of dying.

 

He lets his eyes close. Before they do, Gold catches a pair of light gray eyes in front of him. They’re beautiful, round and pale like the moon. The moon that calls to Gold and promises him everything will be okay as long as he just gives in and lets his body rest.

 

So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you find any typos! Comments and kudos are always welcome and appreciated <3 I love hearing feedback!!


End file.
